


Love Lasts Forever - Four Reunions

by CopperCrane2



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Modern Era, Other, Reunions, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperCrane2/pseuds/CopperCrane2
Summary: Written for the 2017 Senshi & Shitennou Reverse Mini Bang. Usagi has a plan to reunite the Senshi and the Shitennou, and it works... kind of? Ok, so things aren't as rosy as initially envisioned, but all's well that ends well, amiright?!





	1. One Down... Sorta. Three To Go!

**Author's Note:**

> Sincere apologies for the lateness of this fic to my lovely artist, Astraearose! I hope the fic makes up for it!
> 
> Please check out her blog:https://astraearose93.tumblr.com/ and her Ao3 page: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astraearose/pseuds/Astraearose
> 
> I also, I have to thank my fellow authors and artists so much - i wouldn't have gotten through the thing if it wasn't for you wonderful people! <3

“You’re joking, right?”

“But the Outers and I have been searching all this time and he’s-”

“No.” Makoto crossed her forearms, forming a large ‘X’ in front of her torso, and then pulled them apart in an exaggerated gesture, her hands slicing through the air to emphasise her disapproval. “This is the craziest thing you’ve ever done, and you literally once threw yourself into a giant cauldron of chaos at the centre of the galaxy!”

Usagi took mild offence at that. “Ok personally, I wouldn't call either of those things ‘crazy’, they were both totally done in the name of love, so-”

“ _So,_ how exactly did you think this was going to go down?! Did you think _lying_ to us-”

“Keeping it a surprise, you mean.”

“ _Lying_ about where you’ve been for the past three months, secretly searching for our mortal enemies - who, by the way,” she said, vigorously shaking her finger as she ranted, “we have _super, extremely_ complicated pasts with, and then getting me to come here, on my own, under false pretenses - with _no_ warning whatsoever I might add - and, and, and just springing this information on me like… like some sort of giant, assaulting… _springing thing_ , was going to end well?!”

Usagi cringed. “Yes?”

“Oh my _God_!”

“Well, _of course_ it’s going to sound bad if you say it that way…”

“It doesn’t matter how I say it, it’s insane!”

“I figured you’d be happy,” she tried to explain, “you like romantic stuff like this.”

Makoto clutched at her forehead in utter disbelief. “In romcoms and trashy romance novels maybe, but not in real life! What, you thought I’d just see him and then we’d… we’d magically transform into our Silver Millennium clothes and… and we’d run into each other’s arms, kissing and embracing each other, and then he’d say ‘ _Oh, Princess Jupiter,_ ’” (her voice dipped to impersonate his), “‘ _I told you I’d always love you_ ’, and then I’d be all ‘ _Oh Nephrite,’_ ” (she batted her eyelashes dramatically), _“‘I missed you so!_ ’ while my dress got swept up in a wind current and then we’d make out passionately against a classic greco-roman-esque garden wall covered in pretty vines?!”

Usagi blinked. “That’s, uh… that's really specific,” she noticed.

“It’s a fantasy!” Makoto yelled, her husky voice taking on an unusually high pitch.

“A fantasy you did _have_...”

“Fantasies are fantasies because we don’t actually want them to happen in reality!”  

Usagi didn't think that made any sense at all. “But-”

“Have you told anyone else?”

She shook her head. “You’re the first,” she said, hoping that that somehow made things better.

Considering the drawing room of the Outer Senshi mansion was substantially large in size, it gave Makoto a wide walking berth. She began to pace, using the space to her full advantage. “I can’t imagine how Minako’s going to take this. When you tell her what you did and why you did it, and without even a word to us about it...” Usagi thought her friend looked like tiger, tightly coiled and ready to pounce at any moment. It was a little scary, if she was being honest with herself.

Things were not going to plan at all.

“ _Psh_ , who knows how she’ll even react? You can guarantee that Ami’ll be flipping out into the next century once she finds out, and that’ll be nothing compared to-” Makoto stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in horror, “oh God, _Rei._ ”

“You think she’ll be mad?”

“Do I thi-” she looked at her beloved Princess like she’d grown a second head. “ _Yes!_ Yes _,_ she is going to be mad!” She stopped yelling and thought about it. “Actually, no,” she said, changing her mind and suspiciously sounding a lot calmer than she’d been a second ago. “No, Rei isn't going to be mad.” She waited until she could see the light of hope in Usagi’s eyes. “Rei is going to be _homicidal_.”

“Oh.”

Makoto swivelled around to face the couple sitting at the table by the bay window. “How could you encourage her like this?!”

Haruka picked up her cup and sipped at it languidly. “Don’t look at me,” she said, seemingly unfazed by all the commotion. “I told her this was a dumb idea from the get-go.”

“I thought the sentiment was sweet,” Michiru admitted, delicately dropping a sugar cube into her tea, “even if the plan itself was utterly foolish.”

“Traitors!” Usagi pointed her finger at them in accusation. “Traitors, the both of you. When I become Queen of the world and we all move into Crystal Tokyo Palace, you guys are _not_ getting a sea view!”

Haruka snorted and Michiru tapped her hand in playful admonishment. _Stop it,_ she mouthed.

Seeing that neither of them were taking the situation seriously, Makoto turned back to face her supreme leader. “So what does Mamoru have to say about all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they're _his_ Shitennou.”

“They're, uh… doing ok, I guess?”

Makoto crossed her hands over her chest. “He doesn't know about them, does he?”

Usagi’s eyes bulged as she realised her friend was starting to see her as some kind of shady people-smuggler. “No, he does! He _definitely_ knows about them! I mean, they're working through their own stuff, too, you know? And he's helping them to adjust to Japan so they've actually been seeing a lot of each other.”

“So he _knew_ about this and he said nothing?” Makoto wasn’t buying it. There was no way Mamoru could be so heartless to her or the other Senshi. Forgivably, Usagi might not have thought this through properly, but if _Mamoru_ had known and approved of his girlfriend’s hair-brained scheme then-

“Well, I _might_ not have explained the _entire_ reason as to why we were looking for his Shitennou until after we found them… and to be fair to Mamo-chan, he _did,_ uh, suggest that this might be a bad idea. Especially considering their…” she thought desperately for a way to put it without making the whole situation worse, “considering their _issues_ . I disagreed, obviously, because I’m here telling you about them, and I still think I’m right. _I_ think that a nice, romantic date is exactly what you all need - Shitennou included - to feel like your old selves again.”

Makoto narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips in response. She was clearly angry. That made Usagi nervous, and when Usagi was nervous, she tended to panic-talk.

Today was no exception.

“Ok look, I’ll level with you, there _have_ been a few minor hiccups along the way but you have to understand the _circumstances_ and the _history_ , and if you think about it, they've only really been _here_ \- and by ‘here’ I mean ‘Japan’,” she used her fingers as quotation marks, “because, psh, _obviously_ they’ve been on planet Earth for, uh, decades, I think, because they’re not that old, they’re maybe, what? around the same age as Mamo-chan…” she shook her head to stop herself going off topic, “but that’s not even the point. The point is, they’ve only been here, together, with Mamo-chan, for a couple of months-” she ducked her head down, “-and we only found Jadeite a few weeks ago,” she added in a mumble, “so some tension is to be totally expected but, _oh my gosh_ , the _progress_ they've been making has been so great, and-”

“Hiccups?”

Having been interrupted mid-spiel, Usagi was completely blindsided by the question. “Huh?”

“At the beginning,” Makoto clarified, now very much on edge, “you said there were ‘hiccups’.”

“Uh…” Usagi stood frozen for a few seconds and then scoffed, dramatically. “Oh, _ha_ , silly me. I just meant, you know, they're guys… it was- it was just typical, uh…” she shot a glance at the ornate door to her left, “guy stuff?”

Considering how she was visibly sweating and eyeing up the exit, it did not take a genius to see Usagi was hiding something. “‘Guy’ stuff?” What had they done? Why was she hiding it?

Usagi cleared her throat. “Oh, you know, just a few, um, punch ups,” she said, as nonchalantly as possible.

“A few _what_ ?” Violence. _Of course_ whenever he was involved there would be violence.

Michiru leaned over the little table. “Should we perhaps try to control this?” she whispered, watching the two inner Senshi with mild concern.

Haruka grinned. “And spoil the fun?”

“Was anyone one hurt?!” Makoto was practically yelling, imagining the very worst.

“Well, _yeah_ , a little,” Usagi said, like the answer to that question should have been obvious, “that's kind of the whole point of a punch up? But they're all absolutely fine now. And I really don’t think it should even be a problem considering everything that’s happened. It’s not even like they're inherently violent people-” at Makoto’s raised eyebrow, she amended her statement, “ok, maybe they _are_ , but if you think about it, so are we, right? I mean, we've _all_ been in some pretty serious fights which resulted in the deaths of enemies-”

“Oh my God, they _killed_ people?!” Makoto had started actually screaming, having reached peak freak-out mode.

“What?!” Usagi had no idea how this all got so out of hand. “No!”

“So they _didn’t_ kill anyone?!” She needed to know. God, she needed to be _very_ sure about this. Because the last time she’d checked, her ex-from-a-past-life had basically been brainwashed into become a murdering sociopath and she didn’t think she could handle frying him into literal ashes a second time round.

“No!”

Makoto ran trembling fingers through her hair, anxious to understand. “No, they _didn’t_ kill anyone or no, I’m wrong and they _did_?”

Usagi stood, mouth agape and thoroughly confused. “Huh?”

“Usagi!”

“No one died!”

Makoto threw her hands up in frustration. “Then why would you even say they did?!”

“I didn't mean to! I was just trying to illustrate a point!”

“ _What point_?!”

“The point that nobody was murdered!”

“What are you even saying?!”

“I don’t know!” Usagi snapped. “I was just trying to do a _nice thing_ and now I’m being yelled at about murder!” She stamped her foot and ran to Michiru, her eyes wet with barely-unshed tears.

Makoto bit nervously at her thumbnail. “I can’t… I can’t deal with this.”

“There, there, my darling,” Michiru soothed, patting her Princess’ back, “come both of you, sit with us, and let's finish this discussion civilly.”

“I…” Makoto was visibly shaking. He was _in_ Japan. In _Tokyo._ For all she knew, he could be living in the same apartment building as her. The very thought of it made her shudder. She’d only remembered he even existed a few months ago, and she’d been so busy she hadn’t even had time to _think_ about processing her memories and feelings, let alone actually come to terms with them - or with him. “I…” And now Usagi had, without even asking, transformed him from a distant, tentative fantasy, into a living, breathing reality. Tears welled at the rims of her eyes. “I just-” She tensed as she felt a warm hand place itself on the small of her back. Looking up, she found Haruka guiding her gently to the table.

“Sit,” she said simply as she pulled out a chair. “Relax and have some tea.”

She glanced over to Michiru and a clearly upset Usagi. “Alright,” she sighed, getting better hold of herself. She always hated it when Usagi was sad - even if it was the girl’s own damn fault.

Michiru placed two empty cups at the new places and began filling them. “There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea,” she quoted.

“And cookies?” Usagi asked, hopeful.

“That goes without saying,” Haruka smiled indulgently and pulled out a fine china plate from a nearby cupboard, littered with individually wrapped cookies. “Have at it, my dear.”

Usagi did not need telling twice.

Now a little calmer - and thus a little less upset - the anger unfortunately found room to take over again. Makoto leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table. “So, let me get this straight-”

Michiru raised a delicate hand, halting what was inevitably going to be another tirade. “No fighting at the tea table,” she admonished, “we’re not savages.”

Makoto’s lips tightened into a thin line as she forcefully reminded herself that the outers tended to do _everything_ with a slight air of patronisation. They were forgiven for it since they were usually right and because their intentions came from a good place. Pulling back, she breathed in deeply and then took a long sip from her cup. “I’m just trying to understand,” she explained in a more even tone, (Michiru was irritatingly right, the tea did help). “Our former enemies-”

“Lovers-turned-brainwashed-enemies-who-are-now-good-again,” corrected Usagi.

Haruka cleared her throat, gently curbing Usagi’s enthusiasm.

Makoto tried again. “ _The Shitennou_ are all here, in Japan, with Mamoru.”

“Yes.”

“And even though they’ve been at each other’s throats since they arrived, both you and him are totally ok with this?”

Usagi nodded emphatically, reaching for a cookie. “It's kind of understandable, really. Mamo-chan and the Shitennou were basically responsible for a civilisation which was completely destroyed. They were just working their differences out.”

Makoto still didn't get it. “By fighting like neanderthals?”

“Well, the accusations they were making against each other were kinda serious. They were all talking about _sacred oaths_ and _betrayals of those sacred oaths_ , and others might have disagreed with, uh, the view that those same oaths were…betrayed?” She was having a hard time remembering it all, it had been a ridiculously complicated and intense past few months. “A hotel room- no, _two_ … yeah, so _both_ of their hotel rooms might have gotten a little trashed, but that's ok because Mamo-chan found them two apartments in his building so-”

“Wait,” Makoto plonked her cup back into its saucer with an almighty _clack_ , “was that fight on the news two weeks ago?”

“Hmm?” Usagi quickly began unwrapping and stuffing cookies into her mouth. She managed to fit in three. “Whab wuz dat?”

“You can't go deaf from eating, Usagi, you heard perfectly fine.” Makoto wasn't going to let her avoid answering this one. “Was it the fight on the news? The one with the crazy westerners outside a guesthouse in Juban?”

“Oh, wellb, I duh… I dub doh…”

“Try not to speak with your mouth full, dear.” Michiru handed her a napkin.

She swallowed heavily and chased the dry lump in her throat with a slurpy gulp of tea. “I don't, uh, I don't really watch the news,” she tried, reluctant to give a real answer.

“Usagi…”

“Ok, yes, _fine_ . It was, but technically the fight only _started_ inside the hotel, and when Mamo-chan alerted them to all the damage they were causing, they moved it outside - which I thought was very responsible on their part - except that that _might_ have led to an arrest, and Zach almost being deported - which was entirely his fault, if I’m being honest - and surprisingly, of all people, _my_ Mamo-chan socking Cairo right in the eye, but it worked out all fine in the end because they've cleared the air. It's all great and they're best friends now. Plus Mamo-chan totally healed all the broken bones and stab wounds, which was a _huge_ help in repairing their friendship.”

“Stab wounds?”

“ _Healed_ stab wounds, yes.”

Makoto narrowed her eyes again. “Stab wounds as in there was a knife fight?”

“They're really all fine, now, I promise.”

“And you- you were exposed to all of this?” She clutched at the table ledge with such strain her fingertips began turning white. “You were near these crazed knife-wielders?”

“Oh no, I heard about most of this through Mamo-chan.”

That got her to relax, but not by much.

“Why don't you have a sip of your tea,” Michiru suggested. “It'll get cold.”

Usagi picked up another cookie and quickly changed the subject. “If it helps, Leo really wants to meet you.”

“Who’s Leo?”

“Napoleon Khandakar, it’s Nephrite’s name in this life.” Usagi realised that this would be an excellent segue into selling his good points. “He’s half Italian and half Indian… and _really_ hot. Also? _Super_ nice. Like, gives free money to orphans nice, because he’s super rich and also really nice. And _so_ handsome, too, he ticks all the boxes for being perfect, right?” she looked at Michiru for confirmation.

“Not really my _type_ ,” she looked up at Haruka and gave her a discrete smile, “but I see it.”

Makoto wasn't naïve, she knew Usagi was trying to divert her attention, but in spite of her better judgement she was… begrudgingly curious. “What does he do?”

“Uh, business stuff, I think?”

“His family’s in commodities,” Haruka explained, seeing as Usagi was useless in that department. “He comes from a powerful family in India and he’s the youngest son. He heads the company’s charity division.” She looked up, her eyes dancing with amusement. “He has all that family money to play with, and none of the pressures his older siblings have to ensure the company’s success.”

Makoto wasn't sure she liked that. He sounded like he was from a very different world to hers, especially when compared to how she’d grown up, but then again they literally _did_ come from different planets in their past life and they’d still managed to make it work - until he’d helped bring about the apocalypse… “What's he like?”

“Oh,” Usagi’s eyes lit up at Makoto’s tentative interest. “He's _so_ great! He's super nice-”

Makoto couldn’t help cracking a smile. “I got that part.”

“Oh right, so, uh... his _eyes_ are really pretty and he has this grumbly, deep voice which makes him sound so cool, and it really compliments his personality.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, he’s all...” Usagi gestured haphazardly, managing to communicate absolutely nothing with her attempts, “all… uh, manly-man-manly without being a jerk about it.”

“Oh,” Makoto said, pleasantly surprised.

“He could totally be a lumberjack from those old movies, if lumberjacks didn’t have those ridiculously swollen arm muscles or super big bushy beards, and if they wore Rolexes and gold-studded Gucci loafers instead of checkered shirts.”

“Oh,” Makoto said, much less pleasantly surprised… and also somewhat confused.

“So, nothing like a lumberjack,” Haruka couldn’t help but note.

“Well, he has a sort-of beard - it’s close shaven but it covers the whole of his lower face - and he wears his long hair up a lot. I don’t know, I’ll be honest, I’ve never actually met a lumberjack before.”

Makoto scrunched her face in distaste.  

“No, no, I promise, it suits him _so_ well. And I know I keep saying it, but he’s super nice. The other day, he bought me the biggest ice cream just because he saw I wanted it, and he _loves_ animals, I mean, _really_ loves them - he's a dog person _and_ a cat person,” she said, as if that proved it. “He's just the best. He's the perfect example of tall, dark and handsome.”

“Better than Mamoru?” Haruka teased.

Usagi’s head whipped round to glare at the person who would dare make such a ludicrous statement. “Nobody's better than my Mamo-chan,” she said, and then she paused to think about it. “But he does come pretty close,” she compromised.

“High praise indeed, wouldn’t you say, Makoto?”

The brunette was staring into her teacup as if she were trying to read her future in the dregs, completely at a loss as to what she should be thinking or feeling. “Hmm…”

“Say, Mako-chan?”

She looked up at her Princess.

“I’m sorry that I upset you with this. I just really thought I was helping.”

“Yeah, I know,” Makoto forced herself to give her a reassuring smile, “and it’s ok. They’re Mamoru’s Shitennou, I suppose. They deserve to be here with him, it’s just… I need some time to think, to get my head straight, you know?”

“Sure, sure,” Usagi nodded, “of course I totally understand, but uh…” she paused, trying to find a way of asking which wasn't going to earn her an instant ‘no’, “while you spend your time, you know, dealing with everything, could you also, uh, - I mean, only if you don't mind, that is - could you, um… help me tell the others?”

“What?”

“Well, I came to you first because out of everyone I figured you’d be the happiest to find out, but you were _really_ mad and if you’re the best reaction I’m going to get, then-”

“No.”

Usagi’s bottom lip quivered at the daunting prospect of going it alone. “Please, Mako-chan?”

“Oh no. No, no, no.” When Usagi did the lip thing it usually spelt the beginning of the end. “No, this is _your_ mess, I can’t be dragged into this. I cannot be made into an accomplice.”  

Usagi threw her arms across the table and grabbed Makoto’s hands. “Look, I _know_ I screwed up and I'm really, really, really sorry, but now I’m terrified that I’m going to make things worse!”

“Oh you’re definitely going to make things worse. There’s no way of telling Rei about this without something being set on fire.”

“You’re not helping!”

Makoto’s mouth quirked into a small grin. “I’m not trying to.”

“But you will, though?” She squeezed her fingers warmly. “Please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Makoto pulled her hands away and sighed dramatically. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Usagi beamed. “Is that a yes?”

She didn’t want to, in fact, it was the _last_ thing she wanted to do, second only to having a face to face with this Leo Khandakar person who apparently got into knife fights with his friends and wore silly expensive shoes and man-buns. But even so, despite her own feelings and the heavy weight of her heart, she couldn’t stop herself - none of the Senshi would have been able to. It was Usagi asking, after all. Whether the blonde was aware of it or not, her wishes and comfort always came first. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll help, but we do this _my way_ , on my timeline.”

“Oh yes, absolutely! Whatever you think is best.”

Michiru placed a cookie in front of both of them. “I have to say, you’re being very mature about this.”

“No thanks to you two,” Makoto griped.

“You know we have a strict rule about getting involved,” Haruka said, coming to her lover’s defence. “We were just there to make sure she was safe. It wasn’t up to us to stop her.”

Makoto shoved the cookie into her mouth. “Enablers,” she mumbled and and poured herself another cup of tea. Usagi lived in her own little bubble of happiness where things, no matter how dire, just worked out for her in the end. It wasn’t fair and others often suffered for it but she had a power over people, even the famously aloof Outer Senshi. “I mean it, no surprises, we break it to the girls gently and we _don’t_ try and hook them up.” She might have quickly forgiven Usagi for her ridiculous plan, but that didn’t mean she was ever going to agree to it. The Princess always did things with pure intentions, but as they say, _the road to hell…_

“Not even a little hint of-”

“No!” She was now being forced to address feelings she was far from ready to acknowledge and she didn’t know how she was going to cope. She sighed, daunted at the prospect of even trying. These coming months were going to be difficult, but maybe if the Inner Senshi faced them together - with a lot of compassion and plenty of patience - things might eventually settle. Maybe. “We tell them the Shitennou are back, that they’re basically living with Mamoru and that they’re open to the idea of talking to us, _when_ we’re ready. And we take. our. time. Nothing more. We need time to process this, Usagi. You need to give us that, at least.”

The blond nodded and did her best to sound serious. “Understood.”

“Ok, then.” With a long sigh Makoto dragged herself up from the table, shoulders sagged and looking worse for wear. “If you don’t mind, ladies, it's been an intense visit and I'm kind of tired. I’m going home.”

“Would you like a ride?” Haruka offered, already getting up and reaching for her jacket hanging on the hat rack. “I’m happy to drive you both into the city.”

“No, thanks,” Makoto said, collecting her things, “I think I’d like to take the bus.” In her distracted state, she accidentally headed towards the ornate door which opened into the library - the one Usagi had been eyeing up - instead of the one that led to the main corridor.

Michiru gasped.

Haruka, who had her back to everyone, spun around at the sound. Seeing where Makoto was headed she dashed to stop her, but she was too far away to reach her in time.

Usagi’s eyes widened in horror. “NO! DON’T OPEN THAT D-”

Too late.

“Oh boy.”

 

* * *

This had been a bad idea, he knew it. His gut, his heart, hell, even Mamoru himself had indicated that this might not have been his wisest course of action. Usagi was an absolute sweetheart (who _else_ could ever think that he resembled a lumberjack?) but he hadn’t needed the past few months to tell him that maybe her hands were not the best ones to handle the delicate complexities of matchmaking and grand reunions. In spite of the evidence against her, though, he'd thrown caution to the wind; he was _done_ underestimating the Princess of the Moon - that was what had really led to the end of life as they had once known it: their lack of faith in her ability to love and, more importantly, the power which came from that beautiful ability.

He wasn't infallible, but he also wasn't stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. He was going to trust her this time around.

Of course, there was, admittedly, an even more compelling reason as to why he’d agreed to this crazy plan: he’d wanted to see _her_ again. Whether she was totally different, just the same or somewhere in between, he didn't really care, the Senshi of Jupiter was an unstoppable gravitational force pulling at his heart. He wanted to know her. He wanted her to know him. He'd even take animosity (the most likely option) so long as there was _some_ connection. He wanted to at least meet her once, even if after that she never wanted to see him again.

So when Usagi had invited him over to the home of the Outer Senshi and sat him in a small library (just off the main drawing room), with the promise of calling him in to meet Sailor Jupiter, he hadn’t been afraid to admit that he was a little excited. Nervous, terrified, shaking in his apparently unimpressive Gucci loafers, but excited nonetheless.

While he’d waited, listening to the conversations taking place in the room next door, he’d gathered pretty quickly that, unfortunately, things were heading south. It seemed that Sailor Jupiter, Aella - Makoto in this life - was not quite as ready to see him as he was to see her.

And that was fine. Disappointing - heartbreaking, even… but entirely fair. She needed time to think. Unlike him - a man gifted with visions from the heavens - she had evidently not known about his existence until very recently.

He might have had his head in the stars, but even he did not really believe that they could ever get back what they once had. He couldn't stop himself from _hoping_ that she would at least accept his friendship, but he could not expect her to do so by forcing it on to her, and certainly not this early into their reunion. Especially when she wasn't ready. He got up to leave, he really did.

He didn’t actually go.

 _Why_ he didn’t was a mystery. There was a second door which led out of the library, and which avoided the adjoining drawing room. He could have snuck out quietly (an easy enough task for anyone, let alone a Shitennou), and driven away before anyone would have even noticed he'd gone - a solid, sensible exit strategy.

Perhaps he’d been hoping to get a glance of her from the window once she’d left. Maybe he’d even hoped, deep down, that he’d still be called in to meet with her. Whatever the reason was, he now realised that listening to that part of himself had been a stupid, _stupid_ idea.

Because she was staring at him, and she was _furious_.

She’d thrown open the door but she hadn’t immediately spotted him, having been distracted by the commotion occurring around her - probably the others trying to stop her from doing exactly what she was doing. In those few seconds, where her head was turned away from him, he’d managed to take in a good eyeful of the woman who now possessed the power and soul of the former Princess of Jupiter, and she was… perfect.

He didn’t know how he was going to take seeing her again, but he definitely hadn’t expected to feel so happy. They were different people, in a different time, there was no rule which said their shared history was going to be enough to maintain an attraction to each other - or even allow them to be the barest of friends. But in spite of all his doubts, all his careful wall-building and dismissal of unreasonable expectations, for him it was love at first sight. Again.

For her, though… from the way she was glaring, like she wanted to electrocute him down to a shrivelled, blackened crisp, he felt that he would not be remiss in assuming that she wasn’t feeling _quite_ so romantic about their unexpected reunion as he was.

“Uh… hi?”

It was not his smoothest line, but in all fairness he hadn't had much time to prepare.

_Slap!_

Before Leo knew what was happening, her hand had boomeranged back and struck him across the other cheek.

_Slap!_

He was at a total loss as to what to do. He hadn’t felt those hits - his heart was racing too quickly, pumping him full with adrenaline - but he was aware of them, and he understood what they meant: she was clearly angry at him. This had been a terrible idea. He needed to leave.  

But still he didn’t go.

Instead he stood rooted to the spot, watching her while she watched him, tears dripping silently from her face. As the seconds ticked by the shock subsided and the numbness started giving way to anguish. He hated seeing her so upset. He hated it even more that he was the cause of her suffering - she wasn’t supposed to be sad, he hadn’t intended to cause her pain. This was wrong. He should have left when he’d had the chance.

He reached out to wipe away the tears, hesitating in case she didn’t want to be touched. “You’re crying,” he said, at a loss as to what he should do to help her. Instinctively, he brushed his thumb along her cheek. “Please stop crying.”

She froze upon contact and it immediately made him draw his hand back.

“I should go,” he whispered, his voice too cracked to manage anything louder. He turned away. She pulled him back.

A blissful current coursed through him. It wasn’t a kiss so much as a smashing of mouths against each other, hard, painful, intense, but just as his brain finally caught up with the mess of sensations he was feeling, she tore herself away, shocked and embarrassed at her own audacity.

Unsatisfied, he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her in for another kiss.

She was tense for a second, and he almost pulled away because of it, but then she softened and her hands flew into his hair.

He found himself pressing her against a bookshelf as they deepened the kiss, their hands chasing over each other’s faces and shoulders and waists in a frenzied desire to touch each other everywhere. He moaned at the feel of her tongue on his, of the heat of her skin, the scent of her perfume, of her fingers fisted in his shirt.

As quickly as it happened it stopped, and he found himself being shoved away. Out of breath and taken completely by surprise, he stumbled and nearly fell over completely.

_Slap!_

He saw it coming - what kind of Shitennou would he be if he didn’t? But he let it happen, anyway. Her hand sliced through the air and struck his cheek a third time.

“You deserved that.” Her voice was raw, her breathing coming out in ragged puffs. “You deserved it and more.”

“I know.” He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was angry and flushed, powerful and beautiful.

She squared her shoulders and did her best to get a hold of herself. “What just happened-”

“It wasn’t a greco-roman-esque wall with vines,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted, but it came out shaky, “a library would probably be a close second, though, right?”

She looked like she was going to break down into tears again. “Don’t- don’t make jokes.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, I was just-”

“I’ve got to go home.” She picked up her handbag from where it had fallen during their torrid yet all-too-brief make out session.

“Makoto-”

“Don't,” she glared at him, “I’m not going to do this with you. Not now.”

He swallowed down what he was going to say, nodding gently.

“I don't want to hear from you. Don’t contact me, don't call me, don't even write me,” she said and then ran for the door.

His heart beat painfully in his chest, every fibre in his body willing her to stay. He stood helpless, watching as she ran further away from him.

And then she stopped, just at the threshold, her hand on the doorframe.

“I'll get your phone number from Usagi,” she said in a low voice without looking back. “Come on, Haruka, you said you’d give me a ride home.” And with that she was gone.

* * *

 

Usagi cautiously walked into the library, fearing the worst. “You, uh… you ok?”

He turned to look at her, and then grinned like a guy who'd just won a free ticket to Tahiti. “That went better than expected.”

Usagi was now suddenly very concerned for his sanity. “It did?”

“Sure, I'm still alive!” he said brightly, before his face softened. “And more importantly, she still loves me.”

Michiru looked at him carefully. “Kino Makoto is very different from the Aella of Jupiter you once knew.”

Leo shook his head. “No, she's not,” he said. “There might be differences, but her big heart, her warm soul… they're exactly as I remember,” his grin refused to diminish, “and they're what I loved most about her.”

“Spare me the corny romance,” Michiru rolled her eyes, “and I wouldn’t be so presumptuous, either. You might have known her in the Silver Millennium, but we did too, better than you ever did, and we know her now.”

Neither he nor Usagi missed her warning tone. “Fair enough, but I happen to know that she _likes_ corny romance.”

Michiru raised a fine eyebrow.

“She misses me, I can see that, and if I respect her wishes and give her some space, when she's ready to see me again I might, _might_ just be lucky enough to win her back. I have a chance, and that's more than I thought I'd get.”

“Sounds like a lot of effort.”

Leo didn't seem phased. “She's worth it.”

Usagi was still sceptical. “You got all that from two slaps and a kiss?”

“I got that from _three_ slaps, listening to you guys argue and… and that wasn’t just a kiss… that was…” his smile turned almost dopey as he let the rest of his sentence trail, unable and unwilling to put the feeling into words. "Anyway, this was a great idea. Thanks, Usagi. I knew I was right to trust you.”

She didn’t get it, but she wasn’t going to question it, either. “You’re welcome?” she said and gave him a tentative thumbs up.


	2. Will You Hold My Hand, At Least?

“Before we get started,” Makoto announced, “I would just like to point out that I had absolutely _nothing_ to do with any of it, other than being blindsided by this information _after the fact_ , and then yelling at her over what a dumb, reckless idea the whole thing was. She acted _entirely_ without my knowledge or approval.”

Usagi looked on in scandalised disbelief, her mouth hanging open like a dead fish at her friend’s unhesitating and immediate betrayal. Hell, technically Rei was still shutting the rice paper door of her living room to give them more privacy from shrine visitors. Makoto could have at _least_ waited for them all to sit down before hanging her out to dry like the fickle fiend she apparently was.

“Okay…” Minako said, flitting her calculating blue eyes from the blonde to the brunette.

“Thank you, _friend_ ,” Usagi gritted out, “for that helpful contribution.”

“Remember that,” Makoto emphasised to the rest of the group, completely ignoring Usagi and her blatant sarcasm. “ _Nothing_ to do with this. Zero input from Kino Makoto.”

“I’m getting worried, guys.” Minako’s mouth twisted into a little grin, but it didn't reach her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Makoto caught Usagi’s attention and then tilted her head to their waiting audience, indicating she should start speaking. She received a light raspberry in response. They then argued for a bit, using silent gestures and hissing whispers in an attempt to be inconspicuous (they failed, miserably).

“Ladies,” Rei sat herself down and began pouring everyone tea, “are you going to make us wait all day, or...”

Her comment, and a light push forward from Makoto, effectively ended the not-so-subtle argument. Usagi sighed as she moved closer to the other three, her shoulders sagging as she looked down at her pastel pink and white canvas shoes. “Will you hold my hand, at least?” she mumbled out.

With a motherly _tsk_ , Makoto shook her head indulgently at the request. “Sure, dumpling head,” she said and extended out her arm. “Now start from the beginning and pace yourself, just like we practiced.”

* * *

 

Usagi began to sweat, she hated the deafening quiet. It made her stomach churn with all the dreaded thoughts of what the others might be thinking and feeling. To her immense relief it was Ami, after a sip of her now cooled tea, who was the first to break their silent contemplation. “I'm surprised.”

Makoto looked up from staring into her own cup. “About what?”

“That Mamoru wouldn't even mention it to us. I am aware he didn't need to, but… considering our various histories with the Shitennou during our lifetimes, and more importantly, considering our _friendship_ with Mamoru himself, I am surprised he wouldn't at least tell us.” She was clearly unhappy. “He obviously felt he needed the help, otherwise why would he have invited the Outer Senshi to travel with them? And what if there _had_ been a danger?” She liked the idea even less. “He _must_ have considered that a possibility. What if something had happened to him and Usagi without us there?”

“Like you said,” Usagi tried, “we took the Outers with us. We were totally safe.”

Ami nodded. “That is some consolation, at least, but I do wish you had informed us first, Usa-chan. I realise that this was primarily Mamoru’s affair, but I thought we were all friends, I don’t understand why we weren’t involved in your plans.”

“Mamoru is a private person, especially when it comes to the Shitennou,” Rei suggested. It was something she could understand, a characteristic they had in common, “but for _you_ , Usagi, to lie to us about where you would be…” she frowned, confused. Such an act was completely out of character for their Princess. “Did Mamoru forbid you to say anything to us? Was that the reason?”

Usagi wasn’t prepared for that question and desperately turned to Makoto for aid. “I…”

“Perhaps he was trying to be considerate of our feelings, knowing our history with them, as you say,” Ami suggested, realising her friend was struggling for words, “or maybe he was afraid of our reaction? Was he worried that we would disapprove of his decision to find them?”

“Uh…”

“They had their own reasons,” Makoto intervened, keeping the answer vague.

Rei’s pale eyes switched targets. “You're hiding something. What is it?”

Usagi gave up. “It was my idea not to tell you what we were doing, not Mamoru’s,” she admitted. She couldn’t let her friend and boyfriend take the heat for her decisions, it wasn’t right. “He was willing, I thought it was better to keep it a secret.”

The revelation took Rei by surprise - Usagi had always been open with her friends. “Why? Were you so afraid that we would disapprove? That we would not understand Mamoru’s desire to have his own family returned to him?” She was almost hurt at the idea.

“No, that wasn't it at all! I was only trying to-”

“Matchmake?” Minako’s tone drew all attention in the room to her. She had not spoken once during Usagi’s entire retelling of her past few months, she’d shown no indication of how she felt about it, but it was clearly evident now just how angry she was. “You thought we could all simply forget the past and ignore the betrayal and pain we suffered because the idea of going on double dates with you and your precious Mamo-chan would be _cute_.”

Usagi looked down at the floor again, seeming, for all intents and purposes, like a puppy who’d been kicked.

“We don't know these people now. We barely knew them then," she spat. "We fought and we killed and we died and it was _because_ of them! And you just toss all that aside, you throw away our sacrifices as if they're not important, and you do that for what?! So you can avoid dealing with any awkward tension between us and your boyfriend’s friends when we meet?! So you can have this ridiculous, naive little fantasy of yours come true?!" She was practically yelling. "How could you be so stupidly selfish?! What would possess you to even _think_ -”

“ _Minako_ ,” Rei wasn't loud, she never was, but her voice cut through the rant all the same, “enough.”

Minako barely managed to stop herself from turning her ire onto her friend, but the comment had done its job and her head was quickly clearing. Once she noticed how sad Usagi looked, guilt clamped onto her heart like the jaws of crocodile. “A play on both your houses!” she quipped with false haughtiness.

Ami caught on quickly and played along. “That’s, um, that’s not quite right, Mina-chan.” She glanced nervously at Usagi to see if it was working. “It’s plague.”

Minako frowned. “A play on both your plagues?” she asked confused.

“No, it’s-”

“Whatever,” she said, flipping her hair with a shaking hand. “English isn’t my best subject.”

“You lived in England, didn’t you?” Rei asked.

“Pah! A play on your house, too!” Spying that Usagi was about to say something she stood abruptly, unable to keep the act going. “I need to leave.”

Usagi’s eyes widened.  “But Mina-chaaaaan… wait!” she said, running to her and knocking over Rei in the process. “Please stay and talk about this! Please don’t go!”

Minako gently pried her arm away. “Do whatever you want, Usagi, it seems you're very good at that.”

Usagi burst into tears just as the tea table caught on fire.


	3. Chaperones

Despite the bustle of the Crown Fruit Parlour, the booth they sat in was as silent as the grave. Zach coughed lightly and then, in an attempt to fill the void, he blurted out the first reasonable observation that came into his head. “Your hair is different from how I remember it.”

Ami reached up and tucked a few wayward strands behind her ear. “It is?”

“Yeah, it’s not, um, blue... it’s black,” he said, painfully aware that he was pointing out the very, _very_ obvious.

“Oh,” she replied, wracking her brain for a suitable response. “I’m Japanese, I was- I mean, it _would_ be black.”

“It looks-” his eyes shifted over to Makoto - sitting to Ami’s left - who was crossing her arms as she waited for his answer- “different.”

“Is that good?” she asked. Rei raised a fine eyebrow in surprise at her friend’s response. It was unusual for Ami to seek approval from _anyone_.

“Yes,” he said, internally preening at the idea that she seemed to care about what he thought, “you look really good.”

Her cheeks rosied at the compliment. “Thank you,” she murmured and then took a sip of her drink to hide her bashfulness.

They stewed together in awkward silence for another minute. The girls were all loaded on one side of the booth, an imposing panel of four judgy goddesses, while Zach sat opposite them, alone and entirely at their mercy. Makoto made to open her mouth, but a light touch to her thigh from Minako stopped her.

“So, what have you been up to?” he asked, desperately seeking a neutral topic for discussion.

Ami was a little unsure how to answer that. “In what context?”

“Generally,” he said. “H- how have you been since we last- um…” he stopped, realising that technically they’d never actually met in this life, “since, uh... birth?” He cringed the moment the words left his mouth. “Sorry, dumb question.”

Makoto leaned closer to Minako and did not make much of an effort to be subtle about it. “We’ve got a winner here, folks.”

Her quip earned her a light nudge in the ribs from the blonde.

He forced out a grin at the two of them, though it might have come out somewhat more akin to a snarl. “You, uh, you brought your friends. That’s… nice,” he offered, looking back at Ami.

Makoto drew the ice cream spoon out of her mouth slowly, and then pointed it at him. “Got a problem with us being here, buddy?”

“I asked them to come,” Ami explained, offering him a sympathetic smile, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I understand,” he said, relaxing his posture. “That’s fair. It’s just that when you said you were bringing along a chaperone, I didn’t think I was going to get the, uh… the _opportunity_ to meet the entirety of the Inner Senshi team, all at the same time.”

Rei tilted her head with a menacing purse of her lips while she stabbed at the ice chips in her glass with her straw.

“Not that I’m not ecstatic to meet you guys, of course, but it’s just that-” his gaze shifted from the aggressive senshi to the scary one and then to the blonde he’d never been able to read, before finally settling on Ami again. The softness of her features gave him enough confidence to ignore the others and he leaned forward across the table. “if you were this uncomfortable seeing me, you didn’t have to force yourself. I would have understood.”

“Oh, no,” she protested, blushing furiously at his proximity, and the prettiness of his eyes, and his nose, and his voice and... “I wasn’t- I… I mean, I was quite happy you got in contact with me. When Usagi asked if it was alright if she passed on my phone number to you, I was hoping you would call.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She looked down, embarrassed at her admission. “I was curious about a few things.”

“Oh.” She had questions, that was fair enough. Questions could make things awkward, but considering his current situation, _anything_ would be an improvement. He could handle questions.

When none were forthcoming, however, he realised that she might have been waiting for him to say something. “Do you, uh, want to ask me these questions now or...”

“Oh,” Ami said, and then her eyes widened as she realised their miscommunication, “oh! Sorry! I thought you were going to say more… I didn’t understand that you were giving tacit approval-”

“No, no,” he interrupted, “it was my fault, I should have been clearer.”

Makoto’s face twitched, but she managed to hide the smile before it became too obvious. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway since it seemed Zach’s attention was now solely focussed on only one of them, and it wasn’t her.

“They’re about the Golden Crystal and your reincarnation.” Ami glanced briefly at Rei, who was sitting to her right. “We were both interested actually, because it seems to be a little different from how our own powers are sourced. I- I hope you don’t mind, it might be a little personal.”

He gave her a once-over, considering her carefully as he did. “That was kind of the point to this date, wasn’t it?”

"All the same," she looked down again, her face flushing at the comment, “if you feel my questions are becoming too intrusive, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

He was quickly coming to the realisation that she might have looked different, but she was still her - straight to the point, her curiosity her driving force, yet always, _always_ kind. “Noted,” he said. “Ask away.”

She looked up at his answer and he found himself so unexpectedly captivated, he had to pick up his can of Diet Coke and take a swig to stop himself from staring. “The Zoisite we fought ten years ago, the one controlled by Beryl,” she asked, “was he you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “A difficult question, but I suppose it’s as good as any to start with.” He thought for a moment, trying to frame his answer as simply as possible. “Yes and no.” There was a subtle shift to his far right. Nafretiri, the blonde - Minako in this life - was paying attention. Of course she would be.

Ami was silent as she waited for him to elaborate, but Rei was not quite so patient. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“Those four men that Beryl had kidnapped and brainwashed, the ones you fought as children - they were literally us from the Silver Millennium. They were us at the end, after Endymion had died.”

Ami frowned. “If that’s true, then…” she trailed off, putting the pieces together in her head. “Mamoru once told us that the Shitennou’s gifts do not come from the Golden Crystal directly, but through the wielder of the Crystal.”

“He is correct,” he nodded.

“So when-” she hesitated for second, “when Endymion died in the Silver Millennium…”

“Our connection to the Crystal was cut off,” he finished, knowing where she was headed. “The men you fought - both at the end of the Silver Millennium and during your early days here - they had no access to the Golden Crystal. Without Endymion to channel it, we’d lost the advantages it had given us.”

Ami’s eyes widened. “Not having that connection must have made you vulnerable, affected the decisions you made, it must-”

He stopped her before she became too hopeful. “In some ways it mattered, but not how you think.” He sat back into the booth couch, hating that he was about to disappoint her. “It wasn’t the loss of power itself which drove us to do the things we did back then, it’s what that loss of power meant. It was who we lost…” his gaze flickered over briefly to Minako, “and why.”

Seeing the direction she was unintentionally leading the conversation, Ami wisely moved on. “So you’re saying that Beryl brought the Shitennou from the Silver Millennium with her into the modern world, and that their tether to the Golden Crystal was severed?”

“Yeah.” He twisted the half empty can in his hand.

“They weren’t reincarnated?” Rei looked surprised. “But they died back then. I… I saw it. I remember.”

“I’m sure you do.” His mouth twisted in the corner.

Rei still didn’t understand. “You’re saying Beryl somehow reanimated them during the Silver Millennium and just… kept them alive, for millions of years? How did she do that?”

“I don’t know… probably the same way she preserved herself. I _do_ know that the Moon Queen’s death sealed away Metalia, and that while they waited for that seal to be broken, Beryl and her forces slept in a sort of suspended animation. I’m guessing the Shitennou did, too. I don’t know _how_ Beryl did it, but I am sure that she reanimated those bodies and that that’s who you fought in this life. And when you defeated them, it was _their_ souls who were trapped in the stones Mamoru kept with him.”

“And what about you?” Ami asked. “As in, now. From what you’re saying you’re a different person, completely, from the Zoisite I knew.”

“I was. Until Mamoru was born I was just Zach McGuinness, an ordinary infant. A body and soul completely separate from that of the Zoisite Soren of the Golden Alliance in the Silver Millennium. It’s only at the point where a new wielder of the Golden Crystal comes into being that the Shitennou are chosen by the Crystal to receive its power. Part of that power includes a…” he struggled to find the right word, “an _awareness_ of our past lives, which, philosophically speaking, means I carry part of the previous Zoisite with me.”

“I see.” He noticed Ami’s face fell. He could tell she missed him, and despite her disappointment, that gave him hope.

“Except,” he added, “because Beryl had trapped the souls of our past selves in those stones, and then since Mamoru had kept them that way, we weren’t able to fully awaken as Shitennou.”

Rei was nodding, listening just as intently as Ami was. “You weren't free to become entirely new Shitennou because part of you was trapped in the old versions,” she said, understanding. The spiritual realm was much more her territory, after all.

“It was only when Mamoru released their souls from the stones that we really understood why we always felt like there was something missing. We were finally given the last pieces of the puzzle.”

“He did that several years ago,” Minako noted.

“It’s taken a little while to sort through it all but,” he ripped his gaze away from her to catch Makoto’s eye instead, “the memories are still quite vivid.”

She reciprocated with a hostile glare of her own. “I’m sure.”

Ami saw that the conversation was heading down a slippery path once again, so she diverted it as best she could. “So now you have access to memories of the past and to the Golden Crystal’s power as well?”

He took in a deep breath, accepting her shift in focus. “Yeah.” He put his elbows on the table, naturally leaning himself forward, and opened his hand in front of her. His fingertips glowed gold and she found herself suddenly enveloped in a memory.

_“Why?” She stared at him intently, on the verge of tears. “Why would you even try?”_

_He looked at her unflinchingly. “You know why.”_

_“I- I had hoped that you would have respected the-” she stopped, a crack of emotion preventing her from saying what she wanted to- “the connection we shared to at least consider…”_

_“Iseult-”_

_Hearing her name she shook her head, unwilling to let him say any more. She put an unsteady hand to her mouth, swallowing down the sob that threatened to surface. He was hurting her more than he ever thought he could. The guilt weighed his heart down, like a stone tied to his chest. “Iseult,” he tried again after a moment._

_“I thought you loved me,” she said, more composed._

_“I do!” He went to reach for her but the shield struck at his fingers with hot blue light and he pulled back. “Of course I do, you know that. That will never change, no matter how many years go by, no matter what happens, I will always love you.”_

_“But it wasn’t enough to stop you. You still tried.”_

_What response could he give, what denial could he make that wouldn’t sound hollow? This was a question of honour, and love, and even if it wasn’t her, it was still her kind who had led him to where he was. “If our roles had been reversed, you would have done the same.”_

_She shook her head again, and this time the tears spilled out. “No,” she said, “I wouldn’t have.”_

_He smiled softly at that. “You’ve always been a better person that I am.”_

_She turned and looked out in horror as someone outside his field of vision approached. The shield dropped._

“Oh…” She was processing through it, he could see her brilliant mind whirring away, analysing the details, compartmentalising everything into neat, acceptable boxes. She was always very good at that. Organised, efficient, and yet still kind, creative and insightful.

“What did you do?” Makoto’s question sounded more like an accusatory demand than polite inquiry.

He barely held a sneer in check at her tone. “I shared something with her.”

“You implanted information directly into my brain,” Ami said, wide-eyed with fascination.

Seeing her reaction he gave her his full attention, deliberately ignoring Makoto’s rudeness. “In a way. It’s more like I communicated with you.”

“Can you manipulate what you communicate or are you limited to simply revealing your thoughts?”

“You’re asking if I can lie to you, telepathically?”

She wet her bottom lip with her tongue. “Yes,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t take offence at the implication.

He didn't. “I can, but you’d be able to tell if it’s not the truth, just like you can normally. There are signs, ticks, techniques...”

“I’m not very good at spotting when someone’s lying to me.”

He smiled, knowingly. “Now _that’s_ a lie.”

Her heart beat fiercely at the sight. “You’re very much like him…” she murmured. Just for a moment it was as if he’d been sitting there in front of her. She sighed, having lost much of her inhibitions during the course of their conversation. “I suppose it must be the same with you, seeing me.”

He nodded. “I imagine we’re going through very similar experiences.”

She pulled back, sinking behind her friends slightly for protection. “The memory…”

“You don’t think it’s real?” He frowned, linking back to her previous question.

“I do, I just…” she hesitated. “Why that one?”

He debated giving his answer. It was going to be inflammatory: events which had immediately succeeded the memory had not been… pleasant - he caught Makoto’s eye again - but if he’d really intended to be sensible about the whole thing, he wouldn't have shown her that particular one in the first place, especially considering his present company.

 _Fuck it,_ he decided. He’d chosen that moment because it had meant something to Iseult and himself, and that was what this whole meeting was about: the two of them. “It was the last one I had of you.”

It took her a few seconds, but eventually her eyes widened as the memory slotted into place. She turned her head to glance at Makoto and then ducked her head when she almost made eye contact. “S- so you're a Fine Arts student on a year abroad?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

He tried not to grin at how cute that was, at how sweet and sensible she was trying to be. “Technically, yes,” he said, helping her along.

Makoto butted into the conversation before Ami had a chance to probe further. “But you're really a physics professor at Oxford.”

He raised an eyebrow, of course they would have checked him out, he'd expected it. What surprised him was how juvenilely executed Makoto’s attempt at springing the information on him was, like she didn't think the Shitennou would have thought to have done the same thing to the Senshi, that she didn't really think he already knew everything there was to know about her. “Also, technically yes,” he said, and then snuck a glance at Minako. As ever, her face was unreadable. He found that to be interesting and frustrating in equal amounts. He always had.

Noting that he seemed willing to answer Makoto, Ami chose something along the same vein. “Why the sudden change, if you don't mind my asking?”

He sat back. The decisions of his current life were much easier question-territory. “I don't mind at all. It was burn out, plain and simple. I took stress leave and told them that I wanted to do something fun. They gave me a year and I'm here.”

“Burn out?” Rei asked, surprised.

He hesitated before answering, feeling an evil eye being sent his way. “Yeah, I- hey,” he said, glaring fully at Makoto, “can you do me a favour and not look like you want to murder me with the ice cream scooper?” She'd been glaring at him since he'd shown Ami the memory.

Since he was calling her out, she felt she could return the favour. “Well, that would make _me_ a liar wouldn't it?”

He looked stunned and angry at the implication. “Did you just threaten my _life_?”

“If you try to pull any of your knife-fighting bull or hurt Ami in any way, then yeah, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Makoto,” Ami touched her arm lightly, “you really don't have to-”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Makoto scoffed. “Please, I'd fry your skinny ass before you could lift a pinky finger.”

“Trying to go two for two?”

“What?” She pulled back, confused over what he was implying.

Zach wasn't buying it. “Don't play dumb, you know exactly what I'm talking about.”

It took Makoto a few seconds of hard thinking to figure it out. When it clicked she all but laughed. “You really want to go after me for something totally justifiable that I did before the age of the freaking dinosaurs?!”

“ _Justifiable_?” He couldn't believe her nerve. “You threw me into a pit and sent enough electrical current through me to power a whole fucking city!”

“Don't even try to play the victim,” she wasn't going to let him win this one, “I literally _caught you_ trying to _kill_ the Princess!”

“After _she_ sent Endymion to his death!” He pointed accusingly at Minako.

Minako sat back and raised an eyebrow.

Having seen her barely react through the whole date, her sudden movement made him extremely uncomfortable. Usagi had said that the Venusian Senshi was like a regular girl in this life, bubbly, giggly, into sports and music idols and napping… happy. Usagi either lied, or she didn't know. He suspected the latter. Usagi probably never got to see this side of her. “Christ, you're still terrifying.” That seemed to take Minako by surprise and he couldn’t help feeling a little proud of himself for it.

“Me?” she asked, playing it over-dramatically. “You’re accusing _me_ of starting the war?”

He immediately retracted his previous sentiment, perhaps he _hadn’t_ caught her unaware. “You know it was more complicated than that,” he conceded, backtracking to avoid her trap - and thus falling into it, “that’s not what I meant.” He'd never, _ever_ been able to read or predict Nafretiri, and Minako appeared to have inherited that frustrating ability. “I note you're not denying what you did to him, though.”

She dismissed his accusation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Mamoru and I have discussed it at length with each other and with Usagi. We're fine.”

He shook his head, somewhat disbelieving. She hadn't changed a bit. “Ice cold,” he said, almost marvelling at her, “yet somehow you were the only other person besides Endymion to break through.”

She didn't need clarification on who or what he was referring to. “Jealous?”

Zach looked at her for a long while, assessing her, questioning whether this was the right way to go - battling with the Senshi when they clearly were already hesitant enough to trust the Shitennou was not the best way to ingratiate himself to them. “Confused,” he corrected, “as to what he saw in you that he didn't see in me.”

She shrugged a shoulder lightly. “An equal.”

His temper threatened to flare at that. She was doing this on purpose, baiting him like he'd been doing to Makoto - that knowledge was the only thing keeping him from falling for it and letting his anger loose on them, but it was a hard task to keep himself in check.

To ease his inner fight, he deliberately snuck a glance at Ami, who'd been sitting quietly downcast during his whole exchange with the others, like everything she'd been hoping for had just been dashed to pieces. It was exactly what he’d needed to see in order for his anger to dissipate, his heart constricting at the sight. When she felt someone’s gaze resting on her, she looked up, meeting his eyes.

He gave in.

Letting his muscles relax, he sank himself further into the plastic of the booth. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, but he got in one last shot before he declared total defeat. “It must be lonely being you.”

This time Minako looked genuinely taken aback. She hadn’t expected his sudden turnaround. He'd surprised her. _Good._ “It is, sometimes,” she said, “but I get by with a little help from my friends.”

He smirked. “Joe Cocker?” He certainly wasn’t a K-Pop star, and she _definitely_ wasn’t fitting into girly-girl stereotype she was supposed to have been portraying - not that he expected her to that at this stage.

“The Beatles,” she said, and then offered him her trademark Sailor V signature, complete with V-fingers and too-happy grin, “their sixties aesthetic is totally in vogue right now.”

 _Ah,_ he thought, _there it is. Nafretiri’s famous mask._ Even when she was being nice, she was still playing a game - she was adapting herself to make sure she didn't seem like the bad guy, switching back into her outward persona and trying to put him at ease. Everything, _everything_ was calculated. Forget lonely, she must have been exhausted. Zach didn’t get it, but he knew who would.

They were fucking perfect for each other. “Look him up, don’t wait for him to come to you. You know how he likes to internalise.”

Minako let out a small smile, indulging herself with her own memories. “I was hoping he'd have lost that trait somewhere along his road to reincarnation.”

That made him grin. He could relate. “If only.”

“Are you two…” Ami started, picking up on who they were referring to.

“No, not this time,” he reassured her, “I learnt my lesson from the last life. Cairo and I are close friends, nothing more.”

“Oh.” Ami was compartmentalising again.

“Although I suppose I should just get this out there while we’re sort of on the subject, I’m pansexual.”

The rosy cheeks threatened to return. “Ok,” Ami said, filing the information away. “I’m… more complicated.”

He raised his eyebrow, his curiosity peaked. “Oh?”

She resisted looking at the others, since potential eye-contact would divest her of any remaining control she had over her impending blush. Ami was very open in principle, but also very private when it came to actually discussing her sexuality. “Perhaps we can talk about it another time?” she suggested. “The Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum is having a showing about Japanese influence on Van Gogh. We could visit if you’d like.”

He surveyed the other three women. “I’m not so sure you’re friends would find that kinda thing… fun.”

Makoto practically stabbed her spoon into the empty ice cream glass, making her opinion of his comment quite clear.

“They wouldn’t be coming with us,” Ami said quickly.

Makoto glared, blatantly disapproving, and Rei looked surprised, but neither of them said anything to stop her plan.

Zach looked at her squarely in the eyes. “Just the two of us?”

She nodded carefully.

“Are you sure?” This date had been a complete disaster, the last thing he’d expected was for her to make things more intimate and his heart beat quickly at the prospect of spending time alone with her. “Because I really don’t mind-”

“I’m sure,” she said.

He smiled. “Then I suppose it’s a date.”


	4. Hikawa Shrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I very much had this image in my head while writing this: 
> 
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c9/Hikawa_Shrine_%28Akasaka_Minato_Tokyo_Japan%29.jpg/1200px-Hikawa_Shrine_%28Akasaka_Minato_Tokyo_Japan%29.jpg
> 
> Soooooo pretty!!!

She was sweeping in a pair of black three-quarter yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder purple top. From the slight flush of her skin and the moist, stray wisps of hair which fought against the binding of her ponytail, he gathered she’d likely just come back from a run and had picked up the broom for a quick tidy before she headed inside - Kamala had never been one to avoid manual labour, especially when it came to the sanctity of her holy places.

He surveyed the entrance to the shrine once he reached the top of the stairs: the building itself was a freshly painted red, the prayer ropes golden and new. The flora appeared as if it had been left to grow naturally, but there was evidence of subtle pruning and sculpting to keep the trees from becoming too wild. The stone path, while old and unevenly worn in places, was uncracked and de-weeded. A few stray leaves were dotted about, but most had been pushed into a small pile near the centre, with the rest surely bound to join them soon. The place was obviously well kept, cared for by experienced and dedicated hands. It was… peaceful, and beautiful. It made sense that she was here.

She had her back to him and wore earbuds playing music from the phone attached to her bicep, but there was no doubt in his mind that she was aware of his being there, so he hung back, allowing her the distance she was impliedly asking for by not acknowledging his presence. While he waited he spotted two ravens in a tree to his right and he grinned to himself, amused at the sight of them. Phobos and Deimos, brainless yet devoted, loyal and dutiful, they were nothing like the birds with which they shared form. They’d always distrusted him - they were clever enough for that, at least - and from the way they’d turned their heads to the side, their beady, black eyes shining through the shadow of the trees like obsidian, staring him down, it seemed like their opinions had not changed. Fair enough, he’d done nothing to earn their approval, after all, but he couldn’t resist playing a little game of chicken.

He refused to look away and instead met their gazes unflinchingly - a competition to see who could make whom the most uncomfortable. He matched their suspicion and hostility with hardness and a smug sense of confidence. What would they do when they lost? (Of course they would, they were _birds_.) Would they simply break eye contact? Would they fly away? Wou-

One of them cawed loudly and then the other joined in, forcing their mistress’ attention. _Ah_ , he thought, _clever ravens_ , _fighting dirty to win._ They’d learnt that lesson well, it seemed.

With the damage done, they abandoned their perch, leaving him alone with her as she straightened her back and turned around to face him. She kept hold of the broom with one hand and pulled out the earbuds with the other, taking her time with each one, avoiding him for as long as she could.

With her eyes downcast he took the opportunity to move closer, to a more reasonable distance for discussion. When she looked up he stopped, finding himself a good metre away - _close enough_. He opened his mouth, but she got the first word in.

“I hear you’ve been back for some time.” Her voice held the same weight, same gravitas, as it did before.

“Not as long as the others have.”

“Is that why you haven’t sought me out until now?”

Did it hurt her ego that he didn't? “I wanted to give you time to think,” a grin appeared, as if he knew what he was about to say was going to test her, “maybe even get you a little nervous.”

She raised an eyebrow. “From your obvious delay, I doubt it was _my_ nerves which concerned you.”

“Well, you did set a table on fire when you found out we’d returned. Wouldn’t any self-preserving human be just a little hesitant?”

That had been an accident, a freak result of bad timing: during the group meeting Rei had been serving tea. She'd just been relighting the tea candle under the tray to keep the water hot - the action involved nothing more than a quick flick of her wrist - but Minako had chosen that exact moment to leave and Usagi, clumsy in her distress, had knocked against Rei as she chased after her. Having been jarred, the tiny shot of fire from her fingers missed it's mark and burnt a small spot on to the table instead.

She huffed lightly. “You haven’t changed, I see. Still desperate to distract others from learning truths about yourself.” She'd never been afraid to call him out, she wasn't going to stop now.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, his lips lightly twisted. “You remember.”

“I do,” she said. She’d always found that part of him intriguing - his ability to be humble, to take criticism with grace, whether it was warranted or not. He was a thinker, a planner, a deceiver. “I remember everything - the good… and the bad.”

From her answer he realised he couldn't dodge the reason for his visit much longer, it was going to start moving beyond elusive to cowardly. “I’m not here to ask for your forgiveness,” he admitted, “that wouldn’t be right. I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” It was hard and terrifying to say, and at the same time, the easiest thing in the world.

She shook her head, disappointed. “How can you?” she asked with clear skepticism. “You don’t know me or anything about me in this life, I’m not the same.”

“Neither am I. Technically, I’m a different person altogether and yet, like a phoenix rising out of the ashes,” he grinned and gestured to his heart, not quite understanding it himself, “my love for you still lives.”

She eyed him carefully, pale violets seeking to understand. “And what am I supposed to do with this information?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Anything. Whatever you want.”

He seemed like he was giving her a choice, but he wasn’t really… it was his special trick, except Rei also knew that that wasn’t a fair assessment of him, either. His words would only have power if she wanted them to, people resisted his charm as easily and as many times as they’d fallen for it, her included. “And what are you hoping to get out of your declaration?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He’d been as honourable as the others, yet branded a liar and manipulator - as a victim of such public opinion herself, she’d found him to be a kindred spirit. Still, she was angry, it had been _his_ words that had first cast doubt over the alliance - it had been his influence which eventually led to their divide. She was not going to allow herself to pardon him. “You will not get what you want.”

“Oh," he said casually, "I’m not so sure. I want a great many things, though I don’t expect any of them to come from you, Kamala, as much as I hope that they do.”

“That’s not my name. That woman - the one I was - she’s long dead.”

“Completely?” he asked, not quite believing her. “Is there no part of her still in you?”

She wouldn't play this game with him. She wouldn't let him trick her into wanting to forgive him. “I’d rather you came to me on your knees, begging me for forgiveness than tell me you _love_ me.” The sudden, dirty glint in his eyes had her blushing. “Stop it.”

He grinned wider. “I didn’t say a word.”

She hated that she liked his smile and the way the wind tickled the wayward strands of his blond hair. “I didn’t say you did.”

“Well, now that you mention it, I do recall a fond memory involving much beg-”

“You betrayed _everyone_ ,” she bit out, refusing to allow him to deflect from the real reason why his confession hurt. “You betrayed _me_.” Her delicate grip tightened around the broom handle, like a pale vice.

He looked away, no longer so playful. “I did what I thought was right.”

As if that mattered. “We all died for what you thought.”

He didn’t move, and neither did she, both of them unwilling to leave the comfort of each other's presence as much as it pained them to remain. “I know," he said eventually, "and I’m so sorry.”

She scoffed at the absurdity of his comment. “What use is your apology?! What difference does it make? If you were to relive it all now, you’d just do the same thing all over again.”

He laughed lightly at that, and scratch the back of his hair. “No, actually. The crazy thing is, I don’t think I would.” He looked at her as he lowered his hand.  “You seem surprised to hear that.”

It took her a moment to process his answer. He'd said it so casually, she wondered if she'd misunderstood. “I am," she said, unafraid to admit it, "considering how vehemently you stood against us, how deeply you believed in your cause-”

“And I stand by it, still,” insisted. “Endymion died because of his naivety and his foolishness. I loved him with every fibre of my being, but what he did was wrong and his own selfish desires cost us the war against Beryl - he was _supposed_ to marry an Earth woman. It would have been so easy for him to have placated her, he could have curbed the rebellion with such a small sacrifice to his personal happiness-"

"Small?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "You come here, risking fire and death to tell me you love me, but for him to abandon his soulmate in order to marry a hated foe, a woman who murdered his family, you would consider that sacrifice small?"

"Fire and death?" He was smiling, but there was a tiny hint of nervousness at her implication.

"You've seen what I can do to my enemies," she answered, unable to hide her amusement. 

"Am I an enemy?" he asked, genuinely. 

She took in a meditative breath, long, deep, calming. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of safety or peace, but spite had never been one of her strong points, as much as she desperately wished today that it was - a quick and fearsome temper was apparently not enough to guard her heart. "No," she admitted, "but neither was Endymion."

He disagreed. "Instead of admitting his mistake, instead of trying to make it better, he did everything to make it worse - he defied his own people, abandoned them to their paranoia and fear. He loved them, but he was as much to blame as the real evil.” He looked down, remembering. “I don't know if that made him an enemy - at the time I thought it did. It was so easy for him to follow his heart, to die for love and leave the rest of us in misery. At least I have the security of knowing that every decision I made was for the good of my people.”

"Your people all died."

She was right, but she was deliberately ignoring a key fact to make her point. "They did, fourteen years later than they would have had we followed Endymion's plan."

“But?” she prompted, eagre, despite herself, to understand what would be different.

“If I could go back, and make the same choices, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt you, not again.”

She rolled her eyes and made to walk away. She had not expected him to implement such a cheap ploy, to invoke such pain simply to flirt. “Go home, Yorik.”

“I mean it. I'd undo it all. It was right but it wasn't worth it because it cost me you,” he said, “and it’s Jace now.” She turned around at that. “Like I said, you’re not the only one who’s a different person.” Having caught her attention again, he continued on. “It wasn’t until afterwards, when I realised how much pain I put you through, that I regretted my choices. I’m not asking for forgiveness, I’m not expecting anything from you, but I needed you to know. I love you, and I’m sorry.”

She shifted from one leg to the other. “It’s not enough.”

He laughed. “So greedy,” he said and stood himself up straighter, “but I can’t blame you. I’ll see you around, Rei. It was good to talk to you again.”

He’d made it to the second stair when she stopped him. “Would you like some tea?”

From the look on his face she realised he’d genuinely intended to leave. He spent a moment weighing his choices. “I would enjoy that,” he said eventually.

She grinned. It was her turn to tease. “Then you can earn it by picking up the spare broom in the shed and helping me sweep the leaves.”

In all fairness, he took it in his stride - he always did when she got the better of him. “Do you intend to take me on as your apprentice?”

“Would you protest if I did?”

He came very close to her and stared down heatedly at her lips. “No," he said, smiling.

She swallowed heavily at his proximity, at the look in his light eyes. “Then get the broom," she said, winning the battle, "these leaves aren’t going to sweep themselves.”

He stepped away and gave her a small bow. "As you wish."


	5. Invite Me In

She's standing at the door. It's white, with a steel number plate, like all the other apartment doors she’s passed by to get here, and all the other apartment doors after it. It's close to the elevator and located on the sixth floor. The windows face the main street, allowing the inhabitants to lean against the wall of the small balcony and people-watch. It’s not a studio, like Mamoru’s, because it has two bedrooms. It's reasonably sized and reasonably priced considering its location. It was refurbished almost four years ago.

She knows these basic facts because she's checked. She knows a lot more, too - information that is much more relevant to her current endeavour than details about accommodation.

So as she studies the door intently, she does not do so because she is curious about what lies behind it.

She knows exactly what lurks in the apartment.

Instead, she studies the door intently because she is trying to gear up the courage to knock. Or run. Either, at this point, will do. She just wants to  _do_ something. Inaction is the coward's way, he'd said once, throwing her own words back at her. 

She hears mild laughter as the painted metal of the elevator doors slide open and she looks over to see two familiar men about to step out. She has met them already, and she knows that they both live in the same building. One of them even lives in the apartment she is currently facing down. It still surprises her to see them and she doesn't like that, not at all. She dislikes being so distracted that she doesn't notice the obvious until it's too late. She especially doesn't like the fact that this trend is almost always connected to him.

The two men stop, mid-discussion. Jace is carrying a plastic bag laden with take-out. Zach literally has one foot out the elevator, one foot in. They're so taken aback by her presence they seem like they’ve become paralysed. _Deer in headlights,_ she thinks, except they're much more dangerous than that, and she's a clumsy predator to be caught so easily.

They stand unmoving for so long the elevator doors begin to close on them. That breaks the spell.

Zach pulls himself back as the doors open with a clumsy shuffle (elevator sensors are always so easily confused), and he looks at Jace. “Let’s go to yours,” he says, too loudly. “You still have that case of beer I brought the other day.”

Jace is not so willing to play him game, not when it comes to his booze. “You can't use _her_ presence as an excuse to drink my beer, shit head.” He presses a button on the control panel.

“Don't call me a shit head, shit head, and it's _my_ beer.”

“Used all your super-science brain for that clever comeback, did you?”

“How about you go fu-” The doors close, cutting off their bickering. She smiles at the kindness of their gesture and then turns back to the door. Soon enough he'll be getting a text from them saying she's there. It would be better to knock before that happens.

She makes a fist and raises her arm but the door opens before she's had a chance to do anything.

She's thrown by his sudden appearance -  that's surprising enough on its own, but coupled with his imposing height, his solid stature, his pale hair, she barely remembers how to breathe. There is little physically different about him compared to the Kunzite she knew in the Silver Millennium.

It's like she's looking at a ghost.

“They message fast.” She can’t help feeling a sense of pride at her speed of recovery, of her managing to speak first.

There's a shift in his demeanour, a relaxing of his whole body. “It's one of Zach’s many talents,” he says, responding to her mild humour. 

“I heard Mamoru punched you in the face.”

His mouth twitches, but only just barely. “In the eye,” he specifies, but he won’t be the only one to be made fun of. “I heard Mars set a table on fire.”

She rolls her eyes, dismissing the incident. “Ami put it out almost immediately.”

“So no big deal, then.”

“No big deal,” she confirms. 

They say nothing for a few moments, content to just take each other in. She is dressed to the nines, he is... not. He hadn’t been prepared to see her - or maybe he was. She didn’t know how meticulous he was over clothing anymore but she remembers a time when he used to be worse than her. For now he's barefoot in an old pair of sweats. The T-shirt print is too faded to read, it fits but it's not hugging his body, and there's what looks like a coffee stain on the side. He's wearing five o'clock shadow and his hair is just a little overgrown, but not long enough to be intentional. 

He eyes her in her khaki harem pants, her nude high heels and cropped halter. “It appears none of us have changed very much,” he notices.

“Yet nothing’s the same.”

She wants to kiss him, she physically aches because she is so close and yet not close enough to feel his weight, his presence, his touch. She also wants to pull him down and run a knife through his beating heart. She doesn't know which one she feels more, or which one she should fear the most. Instead she settles for relating an anecdote. “I was blown through a portal once, and I landed randomly in the middle of the desert on a Jovian moon.” 

“I remember,” he says. “It took us four days to locate you, and when we found you-”

“I did what I had to to survive,” she emphasises with mock seriousness. “I was in a desperate situation.”

He grins broadly. She's one of the few people who's ever had the power to make him do so openly. “When we found you, you were high-”

“Poisoned,” she corrects.

“- _poisoned_ on desert plant juice and gnawing on a lizard you'd just killed.”

She twists her lips and scrunches her nose in disapproval. “That was not the part of the memory I was trying to invoke.”

He thinks for a moment. “I told you…” his eyes soften as he remembers, “I told you I'd always find you.”

She takes in a deep breath. “You did,” she says eventually, “and I believed you. But I was also getting bored of waiting so… I thought I'd come find you instead.”

He steps aside and inclines his head, inviting her in.


End file.
